


Blindfold

by longleggedgit



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longleggedgit/pseuds/longleggedgit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin blindfolds Arthur. (Not as kinky as you're expecting.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blindfold

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://lizardspots.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://lizardspots.livejournal.com/)**lizardspots** in a drabble meme.

"You just have to trust me," Merlin says, bending in very close to make certain the blindfold he's tied over Arthur's eyes is secure.

"And why would I do something like that?" Arthur demands, but of course he stays sitting on the edge of his bed, just where Merlin led him, and of course he makes no move to pull the blindfold off.

Merlin doesn't answer, just starts shifting things about in the room using silent magic, the motions a bit more jerky and unpredictable without the aid of the incantations he's come to so rely on but no less efficient. He's been planning this for months and the very act of doing it has his heart beating so fast he's almost dizzy; he's performing magic, right here in the prince's chambers while the prince is awake and aware and could take off his blindfold at any moment and see what's going on, and Merlin should be terrified, but Arthur doesn't and Merlin isn't. There's something in him that knows this is a good idea, just like he knew the day he turned ten years old something inside of him was different. It's impossible to explain and it doesn't even make sense, really, but he trusts it more than he trusts anything else, besides maybe Arthur.

"What _are_ you doing?" Arthur asks, and Merlin flinches as the chair he's levitating scrapes against the fireplace.

"You'll see," Merlin says. He glances over but knows he doesn't have to worry—Arthur doesn't lift a hand to the blindfold. Merlin had made him promise, before going into this, that he wouldn't. He'd sworn on his word as prince of Camelot, but Merlin would have taken his word as regular old Arthur just as readily.

Outside, it's starting to snow again, the kind of fat flakes that always stick, the kind Merlin could never appreciate until he was living here. He's almost done, and as a finishing touch he lights up the fireplace with a flick of the wrist, hoping Arthur's hearing isn't so good that he can tell Merlin was on the opposite side of the room when the fire started up. Arthur frowns, but says nothing, and Merlin grins as he approaches the bed.

"Alright," he says slowly. "You can take it off now."

Arthur unties the blindfold and sets it down on the bed before fully taking in his chambers, but when he does his mouth falls open, forgetting to school his features into the expression of disinterest Merlin knows he was determined to keep up.

"You—" Arthur stammers. "How did you—"

The room is decorated head to toe with various laurels, branches, and fabrics Merlin has been collecting ever since the weather turned, arranged in such intricate braids and hung in some cases so high Merlin bites his lip, wondering if he might have made the whole thing a bit _too_ unbelievable. Across the mantle, he's arranged a set of branches to frame the fire nicely and compliment one of Arthur's display swords. Arthur stands up as if in a trance and moves there, running his hand along the ribbon tying the branches together in the middle.

"Merlin," he says. "How did you do this?"

"Magic," Merlin answers, his cheeky grin nowhere near matching the way his stomach twists inside, wishing he could say it without making it a joke, wishing this were actually his moment to make a confession. But it's not, he reminds himself. Not yet.

"You can't even—polish my boots in that amount of time," Arthur scoffs, still having difficulty stringing his words together.

Merlin shrugs. "I guess you'll never know," he says. Before Arthur can try to pry some real answers out of him, Merlin adds, "Happy birthday!"

Arthur's face softens as he turns away from the mantle at last, his eyes raking over the elaborately adorned room again before they fall on Merlin.

"Thank you," he says, quite seriously. "It's—lovely."

And that's it, everything Merlin wanted out of this, everything Merlin was hoping for after months of planning and weeks of preparation. "You're welcome," he says, beaming, and then he half-bows his head and makes for the door.

"Got to help Gaius with some draughts tonight," he explains. "Will you be needing anything else?"

Arthur is still staring at Merlin like he's never seen him before, but after a moment's pause he seems to register the question. "No," he says quickly. "No, that will be all. Good night, Merlin."

"Good night."

When Merlin slips out and closes the door behind him, his heart is still beating rapidly, although whether out of nerves from being so reckless or something else entirely, he can't be certain.

"Well, Merlin," he mutters to himself. "You should never do something like that again."

As he begins his way down the steps, wiping the sweat from his brow with the cuff of his jacket, he's already planning for next year.

_end_


End file.
